It was late afternoon,
and the lone horseman on Twin Buttes looked down into Silver Creek – and
one look was enough. The quirt and spurs were applied to his mount, and to
use his own words in later years, he was “gone from here now,” but not
towards the long string of horsemen that stretched out along the trail far
below.

Score after score of
cowmen were headed for the sheep camps in Silver Creek basin, carrying
death and destruction in their march, for at last the sheepmen had crossed
to the east side of East Fork River, the deadline over which the woolies
had been forbidden to pass. But the rider wasn’t headed to warn the men in
danger. He was riding to protect his own herds and his own life, to make
sure that he would be at home should the riders decide to extend their
retaliative measures west of the deadline.

Unknowing that their
invasion was noted, almost two hundred cow-waddies went their way, armed,
and bent upon establishing fear in the heart of the invaders of their
range. From Brown’s Hole, almost two hundred miles to the south, from the
Green River, the Sandies, from the New Fork Valley, from Jackson’s Hole –
they had been summoned so that the sheepmen might know that sheep were not
wanted on the mountain ranges.

Their march was
perfectly timed so that it was dark when they rode out of the forest into
the beautiful park at the head of Silver Creek basin, guns drawn and ready
for action, that night of July 18, 1903. Asleep in the tents were the
sheep herders of Smail, Peterson and Sedgewick, who held the major part of
the sheep which had been bedded down for the night in the luscious meadows
of the mountain region.

Hard, determined faces
were back of the guns that commanded the herders out of their beds and put
them out in the night, to be bound and held prisoners during the gory
scenes that followed.

Fully five thousand
sheep were corralled before the butchery started. Hundreds were driven
into the corners of corrals and smothered to death, while clubs, knives
and guns continued through the night to do their bloody work among the
unwanted woolies. By dawn, not a sheep remained alive, and the ten score
riders turned the edge of the lake bloody with their ablutions.

The herders and
sheepmen who were held as prisoners were taken to the top of the ridge and
told to head out of the country, never to return. It is told that one
herder, Sam Guiterez, broke away and started to run for his horse, when a
rider rode him down, shooting him in the head. The remainder of the
prisoners, disheartened by the ruthlessness of the killing, marched
docilely on their way, to reach the Lamoreaux meadows and send word to
Rock Springs of their plight.

As expeditiously and
quietly as the host had gathered, it scattered and disappeared, its
members to remain unknown save to each other and to the little handful of
their prisoners, who dared say nothing of the identities they had
discovered. And so ended the greatest raid ever conducted in Wyoming by
cattlemen against the sheepmen. For more than two years, the lesson had
its effect, and cattlemen were unmolested on the east side of the East
Fork, until Uncle Sam, having had his attention called to the situation,
investigated and established the forest reserve. Thereafter the region was
carried on under the permit system.

In the fall of 1903
came an anti-climax to the whole affair. An easterner, hunting elk at the
head of Silver Creek in company with a guide, saw a tent in the waters of
the lake. With difficulty, they managed to haul the bundle out of the
water and open it. A ghastly sight met their eyes – the body of Guiterez.
Cognizant of the law, the gruesome package was left by the lakeside and
the men rode into Boulder, from whence they telephoned to the coroner and
sheriff of Fremont County, at Lander. It was three days before the
officers could arrive – and in the meantime someone had discovered the
find and spirited it away, tent, body and all.

The heaviest losers in
the raid were C. M. Peterson and Len Sedgwick, who lost forty-four hundred
head of woolies, it has been stated.

War between the
sheepmen and the cattlemen was waged on the range of Wyoming for many
years, another great raid being conducted on the Nowood, near Tensleep, at
the foot of the Big Horn Mountains, while the warfare was incessant along
the southern border line of the state. In the early days, Jack Edwards
drove a band of sheep into the very heart of the range country – the
region near Baggs, Wyoming.

The cattlemen immediately went into
action and visited Edwards at his sheep wagon. Edwards refused to move,
and the cowmen hoisted his wagon tongue high into the air and swung a
noose from its end. The noose was placed around Edwards’ neck and he was
suspended in air until almost dead, then lowered, and given the
opportunity to save his life by getting his sheep clear out of the
country. He was an obstinate cuss and refused again. A second time he was
hoisted clear of the ground by his neck – and this time the cowmen almost
forgot to take him down in time to save his life. But the sheepman was
thoroughly frightened by this time and when he was able to speak, promised
fervently to quit the Baggs vicinity.